Hunted
by CastielAndTheBlueBox
Summary: I was in Seattle when all hell broke loose. I'd seen the reports on the news about DC, duh, everyone had, but I thought SHIELD would have at least kept their promise about wiping my damn records. It was the least they could do after stealing my iPod. But then some hobo turned up at my door, took me hostage and then, for some inexplicable reason, I wanted to help him.
1. Of Banana Loaf and Hobos

After the whole London thing, I moved to Seattle for a little while. I grew up there, so I knew the place, and my mom lived near the apartment I moved in, so I got her famous banana loaf whenever I felt the inclination for some.

I swear, the woman was always in the kitchen making banana loaf. Not that I'm complaining, her banana loaf was pretty damn good. Just the right balance of sweet and moist and yummy-ness. But that's beside the point. She needed to get out the house and do something, I swear. Like... baking club.

But yeah, I'd been living in my teeny-tiny apartment for six months when I got a knock on the door.

I guess I should probably clarify here that SHIELD had fallen two months previously. I hadn't really thought much of it, they said they'd wipe my file of my name, and so while I was like, 'damn, I'm never gonna get my iPod back', with just a hint of 'damn, I'll never see Barton's biceps so close again', I was cool with it. No one was gonna kill me, because Agent iPod Thief said he'd wiped my file. I trusted him.

But anyway, yeah, knock on the door. I figured it was just my mom with more cake, because psycho killers don't exactly knock, do they? They wouldn't be so polite. So yeah, I answered the door, smile on my face. Only to be greeted with the face of a reasonably-attractive hobo. I raised my eyebrows.

"Dude. You don't come to people's doors asking for spare change, or food," I told him, because really, how rude. Next thing I knew, I had a piece of cloth pressed over my mouth and everything went black.

* * *

I wasn't entirely sure how long it was before I came to, but I was on a reasonably comfortable bed. I blinked blearily, because seriously, whatever the hell that drug was, it left you majorly groggy. As in, long night of drinking but no hangover groggy. I sat up, and the hobo was on another bed, head tilted to one side. I pointed at him with a yelp.

"You kidnapped me!" I yelled, and he rolled his eyes, standing up from where he was sitting.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just borrowed you," he replied, going over to some paper lying on the top of a chest of drawers at the side of the room, flicking through it.

"Political Science major, and you always did well in history," he muttered, looking over at me. I frowned, and nodded.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. What's that got to do with your kid- borrowing of me?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. He sighed, and folded his arms across his chest.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Captain America and the Howling Commandos. Specifically, James Barnes," he replied. And then I saw him, really saw him.

"Holy... you're... but you died! You fell of a fucking train!" I yelled, pointing at him again, and he gave me a withering look. In fact, no. It was more of a 'keep up, Darcy, you should've noticed that when you woke up' sort of look.

"Clearly, I survived," was all I got out of him, and I had to stop myself from fainting. The guy I'd spent my teen years crushing on, studying, writing reports about, he was _there._ Wanting to know about himself. And then something else clicked.

His clothes were like the ones I saw from fuzzy, camera phone images on Youtube. Of the Winter Soldier fighting Captain America. I felt my heart skip a beat, and stood up, stumbling in the direction of the door.

"I can't help you. I'm just gonna..." I gestured in the direction of the door, and he turned to look at me, tilting his head at me. I saw sad, puppy eyes, and fuck it, I was screwed.

"You know who else I am. You're scared of me," he stated blandly.

Fuck yes, I was scared of him! He was an assassin. Who was strong enough to hurt Captain America. How was I supposed to happily skip through life knowing _that?_ I liked happily skipping through my life, blissfully unaware of all that shit! I was a taser-happy Poli-Sci student who'd taken a course she wasn't trained for and proceeded to meet the God of Thunder. I was not some kind of assassin tamer. That's like putting a... a hairdresser in a cage and asking them to go a couple rounds with the Hulk

Well, it wasn't really, but I was in shock, okay? It's hard to come up with funny, witty similes when you're scared. Especially when it involved big, puppy-eyed assassins.

But he was sad. He was broken.

And I always had a soft spot for people who were hurting. Though usually, that involved my girlfriends, bear hugs and a couple of gallons of ice cream. It _did not_ involve this guy. Nevertheless, I sighed, folded my arms, and sat heavily down on my bed.

"Y'know, there's a perfectly good exhibit at the Smithsonian. You could just read that," I retorted, gnawing on the edge of my finger. He just sighed and sat down, looking at me with pleading eyes.

"The exhibit is fine. But it doesn't... it doesn't tell me about him. About me. I don't... I don't even know how to refer to this whole thing. I feel like he's a separate person to me, but he's not, he's me and I..." he broke off, shaking a little, and I leaned forwards, biting my lip.

"I'm... flattered that you picked me, I really am. But... if you're looking for the more intimate details of Bucky's life, you'd be better off with Steve," I murmured. Okay, so I lied. I wasn't all that 'flattered' that he'd 'picked' me- technically he'd knocked me out and kidnapped me, but the guy was shaking like a leaf so I figured I'd cut him some slack. It seemed he didn't really know how to act around perfect strangers. I'd have to just do my best to be nice.

I could totally not do sarcasm for a little while. I was confident of that fact. He shrugged.

"You did a report on Bucky Barnes. I couldn't read it, but I know you did it, which means you know about him," he replied, and I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Alright. Fine. I'll help you figure out all the dirty little secrets about yourself. But next time you want some help with something, try and ask a girl instead of knocking her out?" I suggested, and I swear the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Deal."


	2. People

It's hardly a surprise I don't really like other people.

I mean, when I look back at all the people I've interacted with, or, at least, the ones I can remember, all I feel is a burning sense of hate or confusion.

Scientists, doctors, men who wanted to use me, who put me in the wipe every time even an inkling of Bucky Barnes bled through. Soldiers they handed him because they were disposable.

Rogers. A man whose face gave me a headache. How could he be so familiar and foreign at the same time? I recognized him. Felt something in my chest, my heart constricting... but I didn't know what. It was strange; to feel so much for someone I didn't really know. I knew him, but I didn't. It hurt to think about, so I mostly avoided it. But I couldn't, not any more. I knew he was looking for me, but part of me was screaming not to let him see me, not like this. Not the broken shell of a man he once knew.

There were flashes of others. The winged man. The redhead. People he hadn't spoken to, but who knew Ro- Steve. He was supposed to be Steve to me. They knew him, and in a way it made me want to speak to them, find out more about the man I wanted to desperately to know. But if I went to them, I'd end up with a punch in the face and an enthusiastic Captain to deal with. Best to stick with the girl in front of me. Darcy Lewis. She was very... strange, to say the least. The way she looked at me, without fear, just pure... defiance. It was... refreshing, in an odd way. To have someone look at me in a way other than the rabbit-in-headlights look I got from my victims.

She was sleeping, at that moment. She'd tried to convince me to get some sleep, but I didn't want to. Didn't want to accidentally shoot her because I hand a nightmare, or because she tried to wake me up. I couldn't bear to hurt anyone else. I was done with that part of my life. I wasn't the Winter Soldier any more. I couldn't be him. I didn't want to be him. I wanted to be Bucky. And I totally understood I couldn't be him, he was a good man, and with all I'd done I could never quite measure up to him. Not in my eyes, not in Steve's eyes, not in the eyes of the general public. But if I could be a tenth of the man he was, I'd be happy.

The girl on the bed- Darcy- squirmed a little on the bed before yawning and stretching out. She seemed confused for a moment, but then she saw me, sitting and watching her, and frowned, sitting up in bed. "Y'know, dude, it's not normal to sit and watch people sleep. Just FYI for the future, normal, human people find that creepy," she told me, sitting up and ruffling her hair.

"Also, I could do with some clean clothes," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest. Something inside of me curled at that, a half-asleep girl telling me she wished she had clean clothes, hair mussed. It was a strange feeling of affection, a feeling that caught me unaware when I got a memory of Steve, throwing himself into fights. A feeling of memory, an itching at the side of my brain. I stood up, going to a bag at the side of the room and throwing some jeans and a white t-shirt at her.

"I bought them for myself. They were too small. If you want to shower, do it quickly, we're moving on," I instructed her, going to sit down again. I quashed the feeling of affection, that wasn't my feeling. That was Bucky Barnes' feeling. He knew what it was like for a woman to wake up all innocent and ruffle her hair and smile at him like that. I didn't. I didn't get to feel things like that. I got up from my seat, listening to the shower come on, and- Christ, was she singing?

"Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy..."

I felt like bashing my head repeatedly against the wall, just to get the wailing cat noise out of my head. But she just kept going.

And going.

And going.

And why the hell was it taking her twenty five minutes to get clean? She just had to wash off, perhaps wash her hair if it was greasy.

And then an image ran through my head, another supplied by the part of me (was he even part of me?) that was Bucky, of Darcy Lewis in the shower, washing her hair, soap suds rolling down her breasts, her stomach, lower...

I slapped a hand to my face. My head also supplied 'baseball scores' and 'grandma', but as I knew nothing of those, I instead thought about grass. That seemed to work sufficiently and when Darcy was back through, I was back in my seat, looking as normal as a memory wiped ex-assassin could, I suppose. I barely glanced up at her when she entered, hair damp around her face and clothes hanging slightly loose on her body (really, they only seemed to be held on by her curves, and my thoughts were going back into the danger zone. Really, when did I get to be so damn sexually oriented?).

I stood up, and grabbed my bag. Most of the clothes in there did fit me, so that wouldn't be too much of an issue. Though, I would have to get clothes for the girl.

"The water in there was starting to get cold," she told me, brightly, and I was torn between telling her I didn't really care, and snapping 'no wonder'. Instead, I just gave her a look that told her we needed to go. She took my bag, dumping her other clothes in there, and linked arms with me (I very, very quickly shook her off).

"Stay in one place too long, you get caught," I muttered, and she followed me out like an over-enthused puppy. Really, yesterday she'd been complaining about being kidnapped (borrowed!) and today she was trotting along behind me like this was the best thing in the world.

"You seem... happy," I said, my head tilted to the side. She shrugged, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well. If I'm gonna be roadtripping America with Bucky Barnes, helping him discover his true self, I might as well make the most of it. I could write an autobiography. 'Tasing Gods and Un-Brainwashing Assassins. Alternatively called 'What the Fuck is My Life'?" she giggled, and I felt the corners of my mouth twitch. I didn't smile, though. I never smiled. Instead, I just leaned out, hailing a taxi with my flesh and blood arm.

"Play along," I hissed, getting in.

"Where do you wanna go?" the driver asked. I put on a goofy smile. I'd taken her halfway across Seattle when she slept, so instead of the outskirts we were right in the centre, where no one recognized her.

"Ah, to the airport, please. Me and the missus are roadtrippin' the country, just visitin' for a little while and then takin' off again!" I replied, accent immediately going southern. Even less chance of noticing. Darcy stared a moment before nodding, smile also covering her face.

"Yeah, good golly, it's been grrreat! Like that gosh-darn cutie tigah from the advert!" she added, in possibly the worst impression of a southerner I'd ever heard. Both the driver and I gave her a look, and she quickly shut her mouth, covering it up.

"I get so gosh-darn carried away!" she said, again, and I leaned in close to her ear when we started driving.

"Just shut up and let me do the talking. And giggle at something I said while I move away," I told her, and she let out the most fake, high-pitched giggle that I'd ever heard.

The girl had certainly never done any kind of dramatic art at school.

* * *

When we finally got onto a plane, the guys at security letting me through the gates, metal arm and all, when I told them I was a war veteran. It wasn't /technically/ a lie. I was a war veteran. I just didn't specify which wars. They didn't need to know World War Two and the Cold War were only two of the wars on my repertoire.

The plane was small, for a passenger carrier, but that wasn't surprising. The flight was only going to be about an hour and a half long, so there was no real reason to have any source of entertainment on. Darcy pulled out an ipod, and put in one earbud, offering me the other. I frowned slightly, before taking it, putting it in my ear. It wasn't long before a tinny rendition of the song she'd been singing in the shower came through. I was close to throwing the thing out of the window, but if she liked it I'd work to keep her happy. I didn't exactly want her upset with me when we were going to have to spend time together in New York. A lot of time together.

I knew it was dangerous, trying to avoid Steve while staying in the same city as him. But I needed to find out about myself. About... Bucky. About whoever I was until recently. Well. Until seventy years or so ago.

That was the thing that got me about my 'quest'. Bucky Barnes was a man I had been for only twenty of my ninety five years. Really, for the majority of my life, I'd been the Soldier. And he was still a better man than I was.

Darcy glanced up at me with a frown, "I can practically feel you thinking. What's up?" she asked, and I swallowed.

"I... I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm doing it. I'm not him, I'm not Bucky, for the majority of my life, I've been another man. An evil man, who's done evil things. He's only been me for a short while and I want to be him," I replied. I hated confiding in people, but perhaps she'd trust me if I did. For some bizarre reason, I couldn't find anywhere inside of me that held any distrust for the bubbly, sings-bad-music-in-the-shower girl that I'd... borrowed. She reached out and awkwardly patted my arm. I tried my best to hide my flinch.

"It's because you're a human. Us humans, we're always trying to be better, trying to prove ourselves. That's totally what you're doing, you're trying to be better. And don't talk about who you've been for the majority of your life. If we're going down that road, your BFF has been an ice block for most of his life. You don't see him hopping down the street encased in an ice cube, do you?"

* * *

It was when we finally got off the plane that she turned to face me, frowned, and asked, "If you remember who you are, will you cut your hair? Because while you rock the whole hobo thing, you look a bit silly."


	3. HYDRA

Okay, so things were actually going quite well. I was getting to a point where I _enjoyed_ teaching Bucky (James, he wanted me to call him James) about himself.

It was still a little surreal, not just the whole part where I was talking to a dead man, but also the bit where he needed to be taught _about himself_.

He was like a scared little boy, a lot of the time. Lost, unsure of what to do with himself, worried he'd hurt me or that _I'd_ hurt _him_ (like I could, really, he was significantly stronger than I was). It was like every time he got something wrong, he was worried I was going to strike out and hurt him. I tried to reassure him that I'd never, ever do that, but he still seemed unsure. I guessed he'd probably been told similar things in the past, been lied to in the same way.

He very rarely slept. He seemed to constantly be on guard. It was during one of the few times I forced him into bed, when I managed to get him back to sleep after the nightmares, when he didn't _scream _at me to _let him go, _when he didn't shiver and complain about the cold, even in a sweltering hot room.

Unfortunately, it was on one of the nights when he was sleeping peacefully that we got in trouble. We'd been road tripping America for two months, I'd phoned my mom to say I was fine (so there were no 'missing persons' reports on TV- my mom just thought I was parading around and staying out of contact like before). That was when someone came into our room without bother, moved in (twenty of them, all armed), pressed a cloth I assumed was soaked in chloroform in his face, before coming for me.

My last thought before everything went black- that was happening far too often for my tastes- was that Bucky was never going to sleep peacefully again. Not that he did much anyway.

* * *

When I came to, I groaned. I officially hated chloroform, especially since twice in the last couple of months; people had used it to capture me. While Bucky's motives were more… I hate to say 'normal', but that was the only word I think of- I had a feeling they weren't quite the same. I went to sit up straighter, only to discover I was handcuffed to a reclined seat and unable to get up. I looked around frantically, my hands clenching next to me, panic closing around my throat.

"Bu- James?" I called, but he wasn't in the room with me. They'd taken him away, I was alone, I couldn't be alone, I didn't know how to defend myself, how to get out of tough situations, I was a Polit-

My thoughts were cut off when a young man walked into the room, hands stuffed in his pockets, a smirk on his lips.

"Darcy Lewis, nice to meet you. I'm Agent Grant Ward. SHIELD. Or… HYDRA, now, I guess. No real need to hide behind their persona," he said. His voice was friendly, almost _pleasant_, and it caught me off guard. There was also a slight shock that this man was actually one of the bad guys, he looked so damn _normal_ (and kind of attractive, I guess, but after living with a Super Soldier for a few months I was kinda immune to that sort of thing).

I sighed in frustration, and glared at him, not returning his greeting. His lips twisted, and this time he didn't look quite so normal. I also got a glimpse of the man behind his mask. He looked- hurt, perhaps? Certainly, there was something heartbroken and genuinely _sorry_ within him. But there was malice there too, and that took away every little part of me that wanted to help him. I just glared at him instead, and he shook his head.

"Miss Lewis, this will be _so_ much easier on you if you just co-operate," he told me, making his way over to a panel.

"After all, we need to know everything about Barnes. All the lies he told you, all the pity he tried to make your heart feel for him. You're a kind girl, Miss Lewis, I hate to think what he made you believe," he moved closer to me, and placed a hand on my cheek, and I flinched away, spitting right in his face.

Okay, so I'm not _usually _that disgusting, but the bastard didn't get to pretend he knew _shit _about Bucky and I's friendship. Weird as it was (because he'd kidnapped me, but he would've let me go if I'd asked nicely). Ward wiped at his face and glared at me, moving back to his panel.

"Didn't want to do this, Darcy," he mumbled, flicking a switch on the board in front of him. I felt it tear through me like a wave, like someone had reached inside me and started squeezing at my insides. I couldn't breathe, I felt like my whole body was on fire, and I arched off the chair, screaming slightly. Ward laughed when he turned it off, but it sounded somewhat forced. There was something in him that didn't want to do it. She didn't have a hope in hell of protesting to it, though, she knew he probably wouldn't listen, that he was mostly dedicated to his cause.

"Gosh, you scream more than your friend. We put him in the wipe again," he told me, and my heart clenched in my chest in a way that wasn't anything to do with the electricity (at least, I'm pretty sure that's what it was, it seemed to run through the cuffs on my wrists and ankles).

I knew about the wipe. Bucky didn't like to talk about it, but when he had, it had sounded terrifying. Ripped out of his own mind, left as a blank canvas, hating himself, hating the whole _world_. It sounded horrible. I hated that he was going through it again, hated those who were hurting him.

"You _bastard_," I hissed, and he grinned, opening his mouth again, before placing his hand over his ear. Clearly, someone was talking to him. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Oh dear, Darcy, it seems this is where we part. Good news, your friend is still in there. He'll get to watch as the Winter Soldier gets the information we want out of you," he told me, and a gasp left me.

He left.

And in his wake, out came a man who looked like Bucky, but certainly was not him.


	4. The Winter Soldier

Everything was dark.

It was strange, being in this state, because I think, in the past, I wasn't around for it. But this time, I was, I could see everything, but it was dark at the same time. I was trapped in my own mind, able to see what he saw, able to feel what he felt, but unable to do anything to stop him. And it hurt like hell.

He was so compliant, and it was hard to believe- especially when I was like this, especially when there was more _Bucky_ in me than before- that I had been like that. I tried to scratch at his consciousness, to break free and remind him that this was _wrong_, that he _couldn't_ do something like this, but he wasn't listening. Instead, he kept walking, kept letting the HYDRA bastards lead him down the hall and into a room.

A room where Darcy Lewis was strapped to a chair.

Her eyes brightened momentarily when she saw him, but fell as soon as she saw his expression. She knew it wasn't me, well, not _strictly_ me, and she struggled fruitlessly against her bonds. He moved over to a panel, hands carelessly tracing over the controls. Darcy looked up from where she was trapped, a look of fear in her eyes, hands clenched into fists at her sides, the bonds obviously biting slightly into her skin. I thrashed around inside the barriers of my mind as the Soldier pressed a button, and Darcy let out a piercing scream, head thrown back as he watched her. I felt a smirk twist his lips. Sick bastard.

"Tell me everything he wants to know, Miss Lewis? Everything he's fighting so hard to find out? What has he told you? That we'll kill you? That we're _dangerous? _We're only dangerous if you don't _co-operate_, Lewis. We want to end chaos. We want to end the man that's protesting against me so futilely in my head," he tapped the side of his head, and I saw something light up in her eyes. Oh, you clever girl.

But I wasn't going to let on that I knew what she was doing, so instead I started doing the alphabet in reverse order.

Z, Y, X…

_What are you doing? Shut up._

His voice echoed in my head, but I just kept going. I wasn't going to let on to what Darcy was doing, so I kept going.

"Bucky? You don't want to do this," she said, eventually, and he looked up, frowning a little.

"Your boyfriend isn't in here, Lewis," he told her, and she shrugged.

"You just said he was. And anyway, you're him, too, aren't you? You're Bucky," she tilted her head to the side. I felt him swallow as his frown deepened.

"No. I am not 'Bucky'. I am the Winter Soldier. Servant of HYDRA. And I want to make you one of us. Would be easy, just torture the humanity out of you, just like that," he held up his right and snapped his fingers. I could feel it, anger bubbling up inside of me, but it wasn't like I could do anything about it. I didn't have a body, after all.

"Do you really want to do that?" she asked, quickly, when his hand went to hover over another lever. He hesitated.

C'mon, doll. Keep going.

"I mean, it's gotta hurt, when they put you in the wipe, strip away everything you've become since you last woke up. I get the impression that behind this persona you put on, you're just a big softie, and I don't' think you want to hurt me, not really," she looked at him without fear, and he frowned, hand moving back to his side. He crossed the room, and I was actually worried he was going to hurt her for a moment or so, but instead he leaned over her, tilting his head to the side.

"I don't understand. Why is that stopping me?" he asked her, and she tilted her chin up.

"Because you've got this big ol' chunk of humanity that doesn't want me killed," she retorted, and he frowned a little more. She took his silence for a chance, and I felt my own confusion hit, only to be replaced by shock when she kissed me. Or him. Or both of us, but it didn't really matter, because he was present and he _wasn't welcome, _dammit!

But it all started to fade away when I faded (and a lot of the 'Bucky' in me faded) to become part of the Soldier again.

* * *

When I woke up, my memories were bleary. I still had my mission, but no drive to do it. I got up with a groan, rubbing my hand across my forehead and picking myself up off the floor. When I saw Lewis, I shook my head, frantically getting the bonds off her.

"HYDRA?" I asked, glancing up at her. She nodded, though something in her eyes looked disappointed.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked. She swallowed and looked down.

"Once. Doesn't matter. Let's get the hell outta here," she mumbled.

I got out the door without trouble, but there'd been a camera in that room and I knew it wouldn't be long before soldiers came to try and get us. Naturally, it was after the first corner that they appeared. Thank god I had my weapons.

I pulled out a knife, slamming it into the first soldier's gut while knocking another out with my arm. Darcy followed behind me as I ploughed through them, slicing the crowd of them down to nothing like a knife through butter.

HYDRA had been fortunate to have had the Winter Soldier on their side so long. Because if I'd not been brainwashed and had defected, like I had no doubt I would have- well. Best not to go into details, here.

It didn't take me long to get us out of the compound once I'd gotten into the swing of things. I lead her out as fast as I could and didn't look back until we'd gotten onto a road.

"Have any money?" I asked her, and she reached into her pocket, shaking her head.

"HYDRA took my bag, and all my IDs and shit," she replied. I groaned, loudly, until she pulled a credit card out of her bra.

"Still got this, though. I got it after SHIELD crashed New Mexico. Fake name, too. Lucy Cameron," she grinned, and I managed to grin back this time. She was a smart girl. I couldn't help but feel I was missing something. I shook off that feeling. Ridiculous. Of course I wasn't.

She linked arms with me and lead me down the street. When we did finally get a motel room, the next town over, I took a shower, washed out my armour, and hung it across the towel rail, leaving the room in my underwear. She'd gone to take a nap while I was in- not that I blamed her. She looked wiped, and I wondered how badly I'd hurt her. She was staring at the ceiling though, when I did get through. She pouted at me.

"Damn SHIELD/HYDRA crones. Always stealing my _fucking _iPod!" she yelled, going into the bathroom. My brow furrowed slightly in confusion, but I let her go, proceeding to lie on my bed and and stare at the ceiling.

That night, I didn't get much sleep, but I also pretended not to notice when a half-clothed Darcy Lewis curled up next to me, shaking like a leaf.


	5. To Nebraska

So, Bucky didn't remember the kiss.

And I was okay with that. I was totally okay with it. I could live with him never remembering that I kissed him. I totally didn't have the hots for him.

My theory was, if I kept saying it, I'd believe it.

I'm not gonna lie. Much as I found him to be irritating, temperamental and _not_ good boyfriend material... I liked him. He put up with me, which is in itself a feat. And he was sexy, though not in a traditional sense. More in a sort of rugged, hobo sense. But still.

We'd moved about again, finally able to acquire more permanent fake ID- credit cards, passports, all that sort of thing (Bucky knew a lot of shady people). He slept even less than he had before, usually spending about fifty hours awake before he finally crashed for an hour or so. Then, he woke up again and the cycle repeated itself.

The same went for any showers we took. They decreased dramatically in length, Bucky not liking for us to be apart too long. I'd joking suggested he just didn't want to go for a long time without seeing my beautiful face, but the look he gave me was so withering that I figured making jokes was kind of out of the question.

And I stayed with him. I knew, logically, that I shouldn't've wanted to. Hell, I should've wanted to run for the hills and never return. But he looked so lost sometimes, like a little boy, and I just wanted to help him find his way home. When he suggested we go to Brooklyn, I stared at him for a full moment before even gracing that with a response. When I did answer, I probably sounded incredibly rude.

"Are you serious?!"

He stared at me a moment before nodding. I could understand, in a way, _why _he wanted to go back to Brooklyn. After all, he'd grown up there. I figured that if he was on some mission to find himself, Brooklyn would be the ideal place to start.

But that wasn't the point. Last time he'd started remembering things, he'd sat in a corner holding onto his head because it 'hurt' and moped for three days.

"Are you gonna go crazy zombie-Bucky on me again?" I finally managed to ask. He hesitated. I was getting better at reading his expressions, and I saw the way he thought it over, how he wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to help himself from going zombie-Bucky on me.

He just shrugged, tilting his head back a little, seemingly undecided.

"I'm not gonna stop you if you really want to. But I don't want anything to be accidentally triggered again. Last time you scared the shit outta me," I murmured, and he turned and managed a small, tight smile for me. When he wasn't acting, I was the only one that got a smile- everyone else got a glare, but I got a real, genuine smile. It made me feel special.

I got up to my feet and stretched, glad of the new clothes- we'd dropped by a small shop in west California and gotten some things. It was still warm, but with fall desperately trying to fight its' way to the surface we really had to find somewhere else to get new stuff. Canada, maybe? We could make snow angels, and stuff. It'd been too long since I'd made a snow angel. I wondered briefly if Bucky would make snow angels with me, but I doubted it. He didn't seem like the snow angel making type. Shame. I thought he'd make good snow angels.

"We could go to Mexico. Germany. France. Oh! The UK!" I clapped my hands, trying to suggest alternatives, and eventually he shook his head.

"Brooklyn. I wanna go to Brooklyn, Darcy," he mumbled, and I sat down, taking his hands in mine. Our eyes locked, and eventually I just nodded. I didn't have the strength to argue with him. Especially now that I knew how damn _stubborn_ the bastard was.

I went over to my side of the bed, grabbing my pyjamas and stuffing them into the holdall I'd invested in. I didn't need to look around to know he was doing the same.

I glanced back at him once I was done, and he nodded back, closing his eyes. I was scared. I didn't want to see him hurt, and I could only _guess_ at what this was going to do to him. Gently, I took his hand, and after an initial full-body shudder, he looked down at me.

"I don't know if-" he began, and I nodded.

"Next state over?" I asked. So. He'd reconsidered. I didn't hide the relief on my face- he seemed to get all of that from my body language _anyway- _and I took my hand back, stuffing it in my pocket. Didn't need to reinforce my crush, did I.

We'd bought a car when we were in Ohio. Bucky was more than happy to use the fake credit cards to buy what he liked, because they didn't max out or anything. Certainly didn't max out for him, anyway. The drive to Nebraska from Colorado was long- about seven hours- but when we did get there he seemed a lot happier. He even gave a lip twitch once or twice. That was as close as he got to a smile.

It was when we'd checked into the motel that I heard him clear his throat.

"Dress up nice. We're going out to dinner. It's run by a HYDRA supporter. Gonna interrogate him," he told me, before walking into the bathroom. I stared at his retreating back before edging towards my bag again, taking out the one dress I owned and put it on, straightening out. It wasn't the most classy of things, with a diving neckline and a hem that landed just above my knee, along with the fact it was just plain white, but it'd do. Paired with the only pair or classy shoes I owned, we'd be able to get right in.

And the gape of Bucky's mouth when he came in, white shirt unbuttoned at the top, slacks just on the side of smart and hands covered in gloves, meant that all the dress-wearing and spying on scary HYDRA goons was totally worth it.

He held out an arm to me which I gratefully took, and we walked carefully out of the room and in the direction of the restaurant.

**_A/N: Real filler here, sorry. But the next should have some action!_**


End file.
